


A Lance is a Terrible Gift

by kowaidesuka



Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: The Sacred Stones
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Christmas Fluff, Established Relationship, M/M, idk imagine a more progressive Magvel, or the closest thing to Christmas in Magvel ahahaha
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-23
Updated: 2018-12-23
Packaged: 2019-09-25 09:03:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,068
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17118386
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kowaidesuka/pseuds/kowaidesuka
Summary: “Ephraim, I swear to the gods.” She pointed accusingly at the decorated weapon. “If that thing is meant to be Lyon’s gift, I will chuck it into the nearest river.”The young prince looked up at her blankly. “What? It’s a pretty thoughtful gift.”OR: the one where Ephraim leaves getting a gift to the last minute.





	A Lance is a Terrible Gift

**Author's Note:**

> Why do I love all the rarepairs? Why must my own brain work against me like this? Anyway Ephlyon is a pretty cute pairing (or even bro-ship, I take what I can get) and I wanted to contribute whatever I could to it :')
> 
> Inspired by the 'Gifts of Winter' banner and Winter Ephraim's lines about lances as a gift he wanted. Oh, only you, Ephraim. The latter half also takes a bit from CYL Ephraim's design and Forging Bonds support convos. I just find it neat (also a little bit heart-wrenching) how they both had doubts about their ability to rule and saw the other as something to aspire to be.

Of all the things Eirika expected to witness in her lifetime, she would have never, ever foreseen her brother in the courtyard, surrounded by weapons, and _not_ violently wielding a single one of them. Instead, Ephraim was sitting on the ground, tongue sticking out in concentration, as he continued clumsily wrapping a steel lance with a bright red ribbon. _Wait a second… isn’t that my hair ribbon?_ Curiosity overtaking her urge to maim her twin for intruding her private chambers, Eirika sidled up to where Kyle and Forde were standing, also observing the prince’s odd behaviour. “Do you have any idea what’s going on?” she whispered to the pair.

The two knights shook their heads. “We followed him out here, thinking he’d want to have a sparring session before lunch,” Forde explained. “He completely ignored us when we arrived though.” He pouted.

“I did overhear him muttering on the way here,” Kyle said, contemplative. “I believe he was saying something about a Winter Festival in Grado?”

“Winter Festival? … oh!” Eirika perked up, remembering Lyon’s recent letter to them, inviting them to see the Winter Festival next week, a Grado yearly tradition. Her expression abruptly turned sour as she realised what Ephraim was doing. “Oh.”

Carefully walking over the scattered assortment of swords, lances, and bows, Eirika made her way over to her brother. Spotting her, Ephraim waved, and proudly held up the lance wrapped in an admittedly decent looking bow. In response, the princess kicked him in the side, earning her an “oomph” and a glare. 

“Ephraim, I swear to the gods.” She pointed accusingly at the decorated weapon. “If that thing is meant to be Lyon’s gift, I will chuck it into the nearest river.”

The young prince looked up at her blankly. “What? It’s a pretty thoughtful gift.”

“It is possibly the _worst_ gift. First of all, Lyon can’t even wield lances, at least not half as well as he can use magic.”

Ephraim shrugged. “I’ll teach him. Besides, I wanted to give him this for protection.”

“Well… I suppose that’s not a bad reason for giving them that. But still. A weapon is not an ideal present for a beloved one.” At this, Ephraim blushed furiously. After several years of growing close and dancing around each other, him and Lyon had begun courting several months ago. The siblings had joked about how the contest of avoiding the responsibility of the Renais throne ceased, now that it was likely Ephraim would end up as consort to the future king of Grado. Fado had caught wind of the banter and lectured him for several hours about not leaving poor Lyon to rule alone to fulfill Ephraim's own desires of picking battles throughout the land. Apparently later he regaled the whole story to Lyon’s father, much to the twins’ mortification; Vigarde, however, was merely amused rather than angry at the tale.

“Alright then, tell me what _perfect_ gift you so thoughtfully picked out for Lyon,” he retorted, annoyed. At this point, Kyle and Forde decided to approach; Kyle beginning to clean up the pile of weapons, while Forde pretended to help him, listening in on the conversation with a grin.

Eirika smiled triumphantly. “So remember when we were hanging out together as kids, and Lyon loved to read whenever we got the chance to settle down?”

“He still loves doing that, but yes, go on.” Though his tone was short, Ephraim smiled fondly at the memory of the kindhearted, bookish boy.

“I recalled he loved this one book series about a mercenary who went on a journey to track his mother using only a single pegasus feather as a clue. I heard from a few travelling merchants that the author recently began to continue the series again, so I went out and bought him the latest book!”

It was Ephraim’s turn to smirk. “You mean that book, ‘The Ballad of the Carcino Minstrel’?” At Eirika’s confused nod, he continued, “He’s had that book for ages.”

“What?!” the girl yelped. “How?” She squinted at her brother. “Also how do you know? You don’t read.”

“Hey! Just because I don’t read, doesn’t mean I can’t.” He glared at her. “And I know because I was with him when he bought it, in a market stall in Jehanna.” He shrugged. “Turns out the author was from Jehanna, and they get the books around a month earlier than the west does.”

Eirika visibly deflated. “Well, looks like we both have to get new gifts for him.” She smiled sheepishly.

“Both? I still have a perfectly good lance for him.”

“I bet you do,” laughed Forde.

“No. Just no. To both of you,” Eirika deadpanned.

\---

“So I get that we needed to come here to find new gifts,” Ephraim said the following day, navigating through a bustling marketplace on the outskirts of the Renais countryside. “But why did _he_ have to come along?” He jerked his thumb back to point at a sour looking Innes, walking side by side with his younger sister, Tana.

Innes sneered back. “No need to be so prickly, Ephraim, just because you lacked the foresight to buy all your gifts early like me.”

“Literally why are you here?”

“We wanted to help you pick something for Lyon!” Tana piped up cheerfully.

“Count me out of helping _him_. If anything, I came along to make sure Lyon doesn’t get too embarrassed by what you pick for him,” the archer huffed. After Lyon was introduced to the Frelia siblings a few years back, Innes and he had bonded over their love of strategy games, and their preference for ranged weapons.

“Whatever you say, Innes,” Eirika replied breezily. “Oh, look at those quills!” She bounced excitedly over to a nearby stall, with lines of colourful quills of different shapes, patterns, and sizes filling the shelves. She picked up a brilliant white one, which shone light blue in the sunlight. 

Tana recognised it immediately. “A pegasus feather,” she explained to the two boys. Eirika turned to her brother, smiling. “Perfect, right? Just like in Lyon’s books.” Ephraim merely nodded, still thinking hard on what to get his lover.

Returning from the stall with a newly purchased quill and ink set wrapped in a burlap pack, Eirika noticed the troubled expression on Ephraim’s face. She patted him on the shoulder. “Don’t worry about it too much, Eph,” she reassured him, “Lyon is as smitten for you as you are for him. I’m sure whatever you get him, as long as it comes from the heart, he’ll treasure it.”

Ephraim smiled softly. “Thank you, Eirika.”

“Of course, if it ends up being trash, then he’ll be too nice to say anything bad about it,” the younger Frelia sibling said, walking past to look at some flowers.

“... Thanks, Tana.”

“Oh, look how the beautiful the roses are!” Tana exclaimed. “Wouldn’t Lyon love these?”

“Grado is a four day trip away from here, they’ll be wilting long before they arrive,” Innes said brusquely. He turned to the merchant selling the flowers, a young village woman with long, dark hair. “Er, that is not to say they aren’t well cared for.”

“Thank you,” she giggled, then turned to Ephraim. “I couldn’t help but overhear your conversation,” she said, smiling apologetically. “I find that hand-making gifts for your loved ones is a rewarding experience. Gifts based on memories of the past are also quite romantic.” The prince contemplated her words for a while, devising an idea in his mind. “I might have something for him,” he said slowly. “But I might not have time. I'm no good at crafting, I can’t forge metal by myself.”

Innes sighed. “Just tell me the plan,” he said. “I might know someone who knows someone.”

\---

Ephraim was loath to thank Innes on any given day… but occasionally the Frelia prince didn't act like a complete prick, and pulled through on his promise. It turned out Gerik, a mercenary Innes hired sometimes to do odd jobs for the kingdom, had a talented blacksmith for a cousin.

And honestly, Ephraim was tempted to thank the archer daily because of the way the Grado prince’s eyes lit up when he placed the bracelet in his open palms. “It looks beautiful, Ephraim,” Lyon said, in awe, then paused. “... what is it, exactly?” Ephraim chuckled softly, taking the bracelet back and opening the clasp, encircling the jewellery around his lover’s wrist. The pair were sitting side by side in Lyon’s library, eager to escape the holiday festivities for a private moment.

“Do you remember the first summer you came to visit us?” The purple haired prince nodded, fiddling with the bracelet - a braided leather band with a clasp and a single metal charm, a silver heart. “Do you recall how I wanted to try learning magic, and you wanted to try using a lance? But you gave me a Fenrir tome and I gave you a silver lance to practice with?” The two boys laughed at the memories. Ephraim’s failed attempt at magic led to the book catching on fire, and Lyon couldn’t even hold the weapon straight.

“I kept that tome and lance all these years, in our weapons room,” Ephraim continued. “Mostly just to reminisce and laugh. But these past few months with you made me realise: that was an important moment to recognise my shortcomings.”

“Eph…” 

“I’ve spent a long time running away from the throne, from- I believe you said it best -the weight of the crown.” Ephraim reached out to grasp Lyon’s hand, interlocking their fingers. “As much as it feels like it sometimes, the court is no battlefield. Brute force can’t get me very far, and I lack the finesse and way with words you and Eirika have.” Lyon squeezed his hand at that remark. “And I know you’ve had doubts about yourself. About your own strength. Even though you are the most kind, smart, and compassionate man I know.”

“Ephraim… I’m really not all that.” Lyon smiled, tears flowing freely down his pale face.

The blue-haired prince cradled his beloved’s cheek with his free hand. “You are all that to _me_ ,” he said sternly, looking into his eyes. “And I’ll keep drilling that into your head until you start believing it yourself. I’ll lend you my strength until you believe you can be strong on your own. And you can do the same for me.” He paused to kiss Lyon on the forehead. “Let’s believe in each other.”

“... I… I’ll try.” Lyon laughed and sniffled, snuggling closer into the taller's chest. “So that lance and tome…?” he inquired, though he had an inkling of what happened to the two weapons.

“Right here.” Ephraim tapped his bracelet. “I commissioned someone to help me craft this. Leather from your book's bindings, and we melted off the lance tip and moulded it into that shape. Eirika helped me braid and add the finishing touches.”

“I knew the material looked familiar,” Lyon said, smiling. 

“Two things from our past,” Ephraim said, “to represent our future together.”

“You are just the sweetest,” the Grado prince sighed contentedly, and lifted his head up to sprinkle kisses along his lover’s jawline. “My gift to you seems so silly in comparison.”

“Lyon, we talked about this,” Ephraim rebuked him softly, poking him in the cheek.

“No, really, it’s not even anything physical. At least not yet.” At Ephraim’s questioning gaze, he continued. “I had a discussion with father, and we agreed that since you’re going to rule Grado alongside me someday… well it’s only proper that you familiarise yourself with our Sacred Twin Weapons.” Ephraim recalled the day Lyon had showed him and Eirika the twin weapons Grado kept, during their first proper tour of the castle. Taken by the sheen and sheer power of the Black Axe, Garm, he kept coming back to the same spot to stare at it, dreaming of one day holding and swinging it around in battle. “No way,” he said slowly. “You did not-”

“Yep,” Lyon interjected, beaming at him. “And we also agreed that the proper way to learn to wield Garm is from the general himself, Duessel. We can start after the holidays, when he returns from his patrol.”

After a few minutes of happy kissing from the couple, Ephraim pulled the smaller prince into his arms. “And to think, Eirika said weapons would make terrible romantic gifts,” he chuckled.


End file.
